When I Was Kid
by NobodyVIII
Summary: Reno is a Turk. And being a Turk means forgetting your past and embracing your new existence. But at some point, all of the Turks were people with lives and experiences of their own. This is Reno's story.
1. An Introduction of Sorts

I'm not much of a sentimental guy. I don't go for sob stories or trumped up sympathy card-types. To me, shit happens and that's just life…that's how it goes, ya know? No reason to complain about what's been said and done cuz it's, well, been said and done. Can't be changed. So while we're living I see no reason to gripe about where we've come from. Cuz somebody out there's had it worse than we have.

Ever since Day 1 of coming to Shin-Ra, it's been drilled into my thick skull that no matter what I was before, a Turk is what I am now. And that's true. Over the years as I've climbed the ladder of success (which basically means I haven't been killed off yet), the other Turks have sort of become a kind of family to me. We're a hard-nosed unit of specialized observation, combat, and retaliation: dedicated to the enforcement of Shin-Ra Corporation's latest schemes. At least, that's how everybody on the outside views us. To them we're nothing but a bunch of high profile killers who come in the dead of night outta nowhere and by the next morning we're gone without a trace-except for whatever's left of our target. But this cold, heartless stuff is exactly the image we put out there on purpose. After all, if everybody knew that my partner Rude has a soft spot for women in need, or that the Rookie Elena is afraid of heights, or that the Director Tseng never starts off a morning without a strong cup of coffee (or five), then we wouldn't be nearly as feared as we are. And fear's a damn powerful ally when your boss is a Shin-Ra.

What the public never knows is that we are just as human as they are. Sure, we might have had training that brings us a step ahead of the average person, but deep down, who we are never really changes. Now, I'm not gonna lie and say that everybody who's been through here hasn't changed. Some punks come in ready to shoot up the world and in two weeks time their spirits are crushed by the reality of what our job really is. Others start out with a nasty disposition to begin with: the kinda guys that should be locked up somewhere but instead joined the Turks. That kind never lasts too long…either because they throw themselves into the middle of things and get themselves killed, or because they end up going crazy and we have to take 'em out ourselves. And sometimes, on the rare occasion, a Turk becomes the object of some whack-job scientist like hojo and completely loses himself or any cognitive thought for that matter. All types have come through this unit they call the Turks: drop-outs, rejects, good-for-nothings, star students, criminals, military minds, thrill seekers, intellectuals, hotties, death-wishers, you name it. The list goes on forever. But times have changed since the days of Rookie scoutings and weed-outs.

Now, we're just four.

And ya know? I like it that way.

Tseng, Rude, Elena, and me. That's what's left of the Turks. There's still some of our group out there underground and in hiding, but us four…we're the only ones that have stuck it out. Seen things through to the end. In short, we're the ones that have just plain survived.

But as everybody knows, nobody lives forever. It hit me the other day when I came across an old file from a mission I'd done years ago. I'd been so young, and even though I'm not even thirty yet, a lot's happened between then and now. I've done things. People have died. Lots of crap like that. And what really got me was that once I'm gone, nobody's gonna know who I was. Ya know, like, outside of the Turks. I grew up like everybody else, had a childhood and parents and friends. I had a life outside of what some file with the name 'RENO' across the top says I accomplished for this damn company. But nobody's gonna know.

So I'm gonna write this stuff down before it's too late. That way when I'm gone, maybe somebody'll still be around to read it and find something worthwhile or entertaining about it. And I'm almost positive somebody will be around, cuz I plan on going out first and with one hell of a bang, too. That way, I figure, I won't have to see any of my friends die.

Haha…whatdaya know. Looks like I'm kinda sentimental after all.

Well, what the hell. Here goes….


	2. I'm Born And Stuff Like That

**~NOTE~ : Sort of a Warning and an apology. There is a decent amount of mild language in this bit and some mentions of physical abuse. I don't usually put language in my stories, but Reno is the type of guy who'd put a few choice words or two in his speech. So I apologize if this turns you away. :'( Hope you enjoy!**

So, here's the deal: there was this short, freckled, red-headed doll of a girl with a bright personality, an independent streak, and a laugh that I remember to this day as the best thing I've ever heard. One day she met a tall, dark, and handsome man with blue eyes, a killer smirk, and a badass attitude. And you know what they say…opposites attract. Both of them grew up in the slums under Sector 7, did life in their own ways, and then one fine day, Boy met Girl. Well, long story short, they hooked up. Not long afterwards they got married (cuz everybody does things backwards in the slums), and nine months later, I was born.

Life for me started out, well, good. Don't remember too much of it to be honest, but there are a few random pictures in the back of my head. Dad worked at some food shop and every once in I while he'd bring home a stray goody for me. Never got the whole 'I love you, Son' deal, but I thought he cared. Dad just never was the type to say none of that mushy stuff. He was kind of a rough-around-the-edges guy…never took crap from anybody and was always ready for a fight. There were loads of nights I recall him coming home looking all beat up and Mom would always give him hell for it. Mom was something else. She was super sweet but fiery as anything and her bark was just as bad as her bite. But for the most part, Dad was the only one who had to tangle with that snarl of hers…and since dad wasn't much of a talker, their arguments usually ended in kissing. They were…sappy that way.

Things went on like that for years; I go back to that time a lot whenever I'm feeling like the world's never been right. Makes me remember picnics, trips to the square, wrestling matches, my parents teaching me what little they knew, and all that other stuff that comes with bein' a kid. Mom's laugh is allll over those memories like a signature. But obviously, that didn't last forever.

Over time I started noticing that things were slowly going sour in our sappy little family. Dad started going out after dinner every night. I didn't think nothin' about it, but the fishy thing to me was that when he looked at me, it was like he just saw the floor behind me. Like I was see-through. I still remember the weird feeling it gave me every time he'd stare at me like that…almost like he wasn't there. He would come in from work, sit at the table while Mom asked him about his day, mumble a few "Fine"s and "Hmm"s, then get up and leave as soon as he was done. Sometimes I'd ask him where he was going, but he'd just give me that look and head out the door. Either that, or Mom'd tell me to shut it.

Mom had been looking pretty bad too. She was always tired with dark circles under her eyes. And some days I'd catch her crying, but she'd never tell me why. Always pissed me off when she did that…not to mention the fact that her infamous snarl was now aimed at me more often than not. So, I started putting the pieces together that things weren't the way they should be.

Important stuff wasn't talked about with me around, but I figured out quick that when a guy my size hid in the cabinet under the sink you could get all the information you needed. I'd snuck in the kitchen millions of times to listen to them and 'gather intel' like the SOLDIERs did, but there was this one night in particular I'll always remember….

**_~88888~_**

_"What the hell's wrong with you?" _ My mom's voice was shrill. She wasn't happy; not one bit. Dad mumbled something and growled a laugh like I'd never heard before. It wasn't a perky sound…more like a threat. I started feeling uneasy so I tried to sneak a glimpse of what was actually happening but I didn't wanna open the cabinet door too far and risk being found out.

_"…shop's closssed for good," _Dad slurred. _"Look'z like we're gonna starve."_

He laughed again and I shivered before realizing I'd done it. Something was wrong with Dad. The shop closed…did that mean he didn't have work? In the slums, if you didn't have work, you didn't eat. It was as simple as that, and before I knew it, my stomach growled. Sounds stupid, but I'm just telling you what happened. I was a punk kid, and all I could think of was that I didn't think I could stand life without eating. It didn't occur to me that we would probably lose the snug hole we called home or that we wouldn't have means to support ourselves or any of that. I just couldn't imagine never eating again. Haha…guess I've always thought with my stomach.

It got quiet for a second. Then Mom was at him again.

_"Why didn't you TELL ME? We could've done something! We could have started asking around…seeing if anyone had a job up for grabs…anything! Now we're a month behind. A full damn month behind! They're going to have us out for th-"_

_"DON'T you YELL at me!" _Dad was suddenly pissed. I jumped at how loud it was and shut the cabinet door in the process so I was back in the dark again. Never in all my nine years had I heard him shout like that. My heart was pounding, but Mom apparently wasn't phased. Her volume dropped but her words were just as loud.

_"Shut the hell up! You're wanna wake our son? Now you listen to *me*. You're gonna turn around, and you're gonna go to bed. Sleep off whatever you've been drinking and we're gonna have a nice, serious talk in the morning, do you hear me? We're not making any decisions until you're sober. And that's another thing!" _She started yelling despite what she had just told Dad. _"What's all this bar business about? For almost six months now there's hardly a night that goes by without you comin' home smelling like liquor. Do you know how hard it is to love a man that cares more about a damn drink than spending time with his wife? Or his kid for that matter! The boy's almost 10 years old. Now's not the time to go setting bad examples cuz I can guarantee you he watches everything you do. If you're not careful, you're gonna raise an alcoholic!"_

_"I AIN'T NO DAMN ALCOHOLIC!" _Dad was roaring by now. Part of me wanted to stay in the dark, but curiosity overcame that side of me and I cracked the cabinet again. So dad was going to bars after dinner. That wasn't new. I mean, Mom and Dad weren't exactly above having a drink or two and I'd seen that before. This was something else. Neither of them usually had enough to make 'em act out of character…silly maybe, but not angry. I had to see this for myself to believe it. _"A couple of DRINKSS every once in a while don't make NOBODY AN ALCOHOLIC! And YOU try livin' through what I've had to these pass few months! Ever thought 'bout what I was goin' through? I don't want us ta starve juz as much as you do!"_

They were in each others faces now…Mom pointing, Dad shaking, both pissed. It went on like that for a good half-hour, each of 'em saying things I know they couldn't have meant and getting louder all the time. Then:

"MY DADDY WARNED ME ABOUT MEN LIKE YOU-"

***SLAP***

When that happened, when my Dad dared to raise his hand against my Mom, something woke up in me. After I got over the shock, it was like a little part of me somewhere shifted. Like the man that was trying to grow up inside me hit a growth spirt. I forgot that I was supposed to be hiding. I forgot that I was supposed to be scared. Nobody was gonna hurt my Mom. Not now. Not **ever.**

_"How…..how dare…" _Mom barely got that out before Dad told her to shut the hell up and called her a name I'm not even gonna take the time to write down.

_"I'LL DO IT AGAIN. DON'T YOU THINK I WON'T!" _

Mom was wide-eyed. Mortified.

_"….hun…?-" _But Dad didn't give her the chance to finish. Before she could really speak he grabbed her by the shoulders and threw her down. She nearly hit her head on the table leg. Mom tried to scoot away, but Dad came after her again…grabbed her arm and pulled her up again, swearing all the time. She jerked, kicked, clawed, but no matter what she did he didn't let her go. Dad finally had had enough of her lashing out and slapped her again: straight into the kitchen counter next to my hiding spot. Her side hit the counter's sharp edge and knocked the breath right out of her. But Dad still wasn't gonna stop. He started advancing again.

I don't remember what got into me, but the next second I had busted outta that cabinet under the sink and attached myself to Dad. I bit through his pant leg and punched at his knees. Mom screamed for me to stop, but it all happened so fast I didn't have time to think about the fact that I really didn't stand a chance against a guy as big as he was. The little man inside me had taken over.

The last thing I remember was looking up and seeing those empty eyes of his full of hateful rage.

In that moment I knew: I'd never love him again.

His hand came down on me and I hit the cold floor.

I was left alone in darkness and silence.


	3. And Then

The next morning I woke up to a broken nose/black eye combo. In my mind I looked pretty awesome, but to be honest, I was too sore on the inside to really bother with the outside. Dad had hit me. I mean, _really_ hit me. And mom too. This wasn't who my old man was, and for a kid it was like crashing into a brick wall at full speed.

For the first time in my life, I was genuinely terrified. I remember looking in the little mirror above my bed checking out the bruised side of my face and then freezing as the thought hit me.._.Should I leave my room? What if something really bad had happened after I had bit the dust last night? What would I see if I went in the kitchen? Would dad be there? Would Mom be ok…._

My ears picked up on a muffled noise coming from the hall. It sounded awful, and the best thing I can describe it as was like a wounded animal. My gut twisted. I didn't want to move but I needed to know what that sound was coming from. A nasty feeling dropped in the pit of my stomach as I crawled off the bed and to the door. I remember the knob being cold.

I stood there, not daring to move for a long time, until finally I just busted the door open and… lay in the floor, her arms covering her head, sobbing on the floor. I could see the dried blood on her knuckles and beneath her wild red hair bruises defined her face. She hadn't heard me and she kept wailing and wailing. But Dad was nowhere in cries pulsed in my ears and I didn't know what to do. So I just said: "…Mom?…"

That got her attention. She shot upright and met me with frantic eyes full to the brim with tears. "Oh thank goodness…com'ere!" Hoarse, she sounded more like a creature than a person. She was scary looking: hair tangled, eyes wide, sobbing, and her hands desperate to grab hold of me to be something solid in her control. I almost jumped back, but I wasn't sure what that would do to her, so I just stood still and let her crush me in a bear hug. My face became buried in her shoulder, in her warm red mane. And before I knew it, I was crying too. Couldn't have told you why then, and can't really explain it now, but I guess everything fell into place right then that things weren't gonna be the same.

"Don't you worry, baby," Mom said gently, her voice thick. "We're gonna be ok."

"B-but…Dad…? Where'd he-" She pulled me from her shoulder; gave me a dead serious look that broke when she took a peek at my face which had to be pretty sorry looking-wet, wounded puppy dog eyes, nose as red as my hair, lip stuck out, sniffling like the punk kid I was. I'd never felt what is was to be hurt before, so I guess it ain't that funny when I think about it. I don't know, maybe it is.

"Baby," she said, "your Dad's not coming home."

What did she mean by that? I mean, Dad was never home. But this…did she mean he was skipping out? Gone for good? I'd had some friends of mine lose a parent that way, but I never got it. Surely she didn't mean _that_.Mom must've read what I was thinking because she nodded solemnly."He's not coming home," she repeated. No way. Dad? Leaving like this? She couldn't be serious, I mean, it was Dad! The guy who taught me what it was to be honest and gave me talks about what a man was supposed to be. It was my Dad…_my_ Dad. He wouldn't do this. He wouldn't do this!

But, Dad wouldn't hit me either….

I backed away from mom, angry at her for saying something so wrong.

"Nuh-uh."

Mom's lips trembled and her eyes widened, emotion building again. Tears found their way into my voice despite my kiddish scowl.

"No way. Nuh-uh…" I shook my head against the facts, like that was gonna help. Mom grabbed hold of my arm, trying to gently pull me back to her but I jerked my shoulder away.

"Baby-"

"No."

"Baby come here."

"No!"

With that I ran…down the hall, past the kitchen and out the front door. A gust of cold air smacked me full in the face. Left and right, then back again I looked…like maybe my old man would walk around a corner at any second. Instead I saw the same old dirty street I always did. A few random strangers. An old cat. "Dad!….Dad!….." Nothing.

I took off again, running down the beaten path that was our sad excuse for a sidewalk. Barefoot as always, the ground felt even colder and harder than usual. My pounding legs felt like they were weighted. After a few more steps I slowed to a stop, catching my breath. Where did I think I was going? Who was I running to? Or from? Nowhere. No one. I sank down, plopping to the ground and scooting against the nearest wall. I pulled my knees up under my chin and just sat panting. Then wheezing. Then crying. I buried my face in the crook of my elbow and it all came out. Hot tears poured down my face onto my arm, my clothes, my feet.

"…d-dad…."

(Ok, so short chapter. The next one will be longer. 3 )


End file.
